I feel very far removed from life in the US right now. Physically, it’s because I’m living in Japan for the next year. Mentally, not as much news crosses my path as it used to; with the exception of one colleague asking me what Trump meant when he called Kim Jong Un (KJU hereafter) a “smart cookie.” My language skills weren’t advanced enough to explain to him that the president just says things without thinking and doesn’t care about the consequences.

I can understand why the average Japanese person would be interested in US politics when it intersects with North Korea. Although KJU’s latest attempts to create an ICBM have fizzled, Japan is just as much on the front lines as South Korea in terms of aggression from the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK hereafter); possibly even more so, as both Koreas may ultimately see the other side as “lost” and in need of a steady hand to exert control. Unfortunately, animosity towards their former occupiers is still widespread, even passed down to the younger generations.

“Even facts for which there is video evidence, like not having the largest crowd of all time on Inauguration Day, remain a fluid topic for someone like Trump.”

I live in a small town in Kentucky. When I say small, I mean a population of around 1000 people. The city limits aren’t much over three miles from one end to the other. It’s one of those places where everyone knows everyone. Several of my high school teachers taught my parents, and very rarely can I pass someone on the street or in the store without them not only knowing my name, but my parents, my grandparents, how long I’ve lived here, and where my momma works. It’s a tight knit community, full of people that are generally kind and neighborly. It’s also as red as they come.

Kentucky, as a whole, hasn’t voted Democratic since 1996. I wouldn’t imagine that my particular town has voted for a Democrat since its founding in the 1800’s. We’re situated right on the Bible belt. Meaning, in a town of 1000 people, we have ten churches. You read that correctly – ten. At least a couple for every denomination. Methodist, Catholic, a slew of Baptist. If you believe it, we can cater to your needs for worship. That also means the majority of the population believes in God, guns, and Donald Trump. I am one of the very few big, black sheep around here. I am a flaming liberal and a strong atheist. Sometimes this town and I don’t always get along.

Before I pursued a career in writing, I worked in the medical field for 5 years. It wasn’t my favorite kind of work, but jobs were readily available and the pay was usually comfortable. I spent some time at a nursing home a few towns over, and then on to the county hospital for a while. I had the occasional run-in with a Republican co-worker, but overall it wasn’t terrible.

“At least twice a week someone at work would be asking me why I didn’t have my daughter in Sunday school. She needed to be learning about Jesus.”

Politically, I’ve defected from one side of the ideological spectrum to the other. And I’m proud of it.

The consequence is that there is great variance in how others perceive my ideology.

One’s impression of my stances, by and large, is temporally-based— hinging on what point in my life a given individual met and last saw me.

Over the past eight years, I have done quite the 180: gone from being a hardcore conservative to identifying as a fairly strong liberal. It’s been a tough journey— and perhaps one that’s still unfinished— but I think it’s made me into who I am today.

In this article, I wish to dispel the myth that political ideology is necessarily something fixed, as opposed to fluid.

Why do people, myself included, change their political beliefs? How common is it? Are political positions predicated upon nurture (your environment) more so than nature (your genes)?

Let’s delve in.

“…most of us won’t become millionaires and billionaires, and we shouldn’t be marginalized by those who are.”

The Beginning

Growing up, I admittedly cared little for politics. I followed broad political events— like presidential elections— but I knew very little about the actual beliefs or nuances of being a Democrat or Republican.

Nevertheless, as a 12-year-old, I do remember making a $5 bet— then a substantial amount— with my dad in 2004, apropos John Kerry beating Bush.

I had borrowed my prognostication from a Nickelodeon Kid’s Choice poll or something of the like in which Kerry led by a handy margin; of course, the poll was based on faulty premises, not to mention it didn’t factor in anything like the Electoral College.

Plus, what kind of Cali kid would’ve expressed any sort of goodwill toward Dubya? I would’ve immediately have lost the few cool points I ever had.

Needless to say, I begrudgingly handed over a crisp Lincoln to my dad that November.

From what I remember, it wasn’t until my senior year of high school in 2009 that my strong interest in politics truly began to take shape. Whether by happenstance or fate, it was an AP Government course that sparked said interest.

I haven’t really navel-gazed as to why I became a card-carrying Republican in my youth, but I believe both environmental and biological factors were at play.

My dad, as far as I know, has always been conservative. My mom wouldn’t quite fall on the conservative end of the political spectrum, but she isn’t so liberal that it turns off my dad.

From a young age, it was always my dad talking about politics and listening to conservative talk radio, so his influence weighed heavily on an ever-impressionable youth.

It also doesn’t hurt that much of my extended family happens to be on my dad’s side, and they generally lean right to varying degrees.

While I didn’t necessarily fit all of the standard demographic traits for a Republican, I wasn’t totally unaligned.

You’re significantly more likely to be a Republican if you are white, for example, as I am, but also more likely to fall on that side of the aisle if you’re religious or older— of which I am neither.

Some have argued that merely living in a city makes you more liberal. This notion is largely reflected in metropolitan voting patterns. Many will point out that in 2012, for example, there were only a handful of large cities that did not vote for Obama.

Self-dependence, in particular, is something I’ve always preached, even if I didn’t walk the walk. I have always felt that one should try to fulfill their own needs, whenever possible.

This belief likely saw its genesis in the situations I encountered at school; in group projects, for example, I couldn’t trust my classmates to get work done properly, so I overcompensated by taking on the attitude that I should take complete responsibility, and perfect everything on my end.

In retrospect, maybe it was clear to others that I wasn’t meant to be a hardcore conservative, but I felt the need to latch onto an identity, and that seemed like the lowest-hanging fruit.

(It also helps that my AP Gov teacher was extremely liberal, and I liked being a contrarian for the sake of being a contrarian.)

Libertarian Phase

It was sometime during the beginning of college that I began to realize that the conservative stance on social issues was largely wrong and antiquated.

Regardless, I felt unable to go full lib. This was probably partly due to the fact that I wasn’t fully ready to adopt such an ideology, and politically, I felt most strongly about a free-market economy.

I also wasn’t willing to fully swallow my pride, and admit that I was completely wrong.

Thus, becoming a libertarian seemed like the most fitting choice.

Nonetheless, I don’t think I ever felt fully comfortable about being a libertarian, as much as I tried to force the label down my throat.

I never did vote for Gary Johnson— I declined to cast a ballot in 2012, while voting for Jill Stein this past November— and I remember feeling cognitive dissonance at the utter disregard that many libertarians express toward the environment.

I think that my prioritization of the economy over all else took root in having majored in Entrepreneurship in college. Giving undue weight to economic issues ended up interfering with other parts of my life.

Many friends and romantic interests, for example, were turned off by my political stubbornness. One partner, in particular, told me that she simply hadn’t realized how steadfast I was in my beliefs when she broke up with me.

The writing was on the wall— I needed to change again. It was just a matter of when I would be willing to accept my fate.

Bernie Bro?

In all honesty, I do not remember the exact point at which I started to identify as being liberal. That fact in itself likely signifies something bigger: for most, changes are gradual, and take pain and struggle to take effect.

After all, a political belief at rest stays at rest.

With my pro-capitalist conviction being the only thing that had to be shattered, it should have been seen as inevitable to outside observers that my political leanings could change dramatically.

It took some personal trial and error, however, for me to begin to change my outlook.

During the end of college, I had begun working in financial services. I had somehow convinced myself that it was a fitting field for my interests and temperament; the truth was I was mainly in it for the thrill of the sale and a potential six-figure income.

Once I failed at multiple firms in the sector, I had to reexamine not only my life goals, but my deeply-held beliefs. Was capitalism so great? Did I really want to prioritize making money over being happy?

I tried a handful of other jobs in rapid succession between where I was then and where I am now, trying to find my true calling, which I seem to have found in writing.

Ultimately, I think my post-collegiate employment experience awoke me to the fact that most of us won’t become millionaires and billionaires, and we shouldn’t be marginalized by those who are.

Furthermore, my experiences exposed to me the fact that we need a strong social state to support us, particularly in an era in which there is an ever-increasing wealth gap.

Sometimes you have to learn the hard way, and it’s not always pretty.

Is My Situation Common?

It’s not super common to switch immediately from being a Republican to Democrat, or vice versa, according to the Pew Research Center, although it is more common for those who deem themselves independents to choose a side.

The operative word here is “immediately.” My swing from conservative to liberal was gradual and organic, spurred by maturity, life experience, and getting to know the “true” me.

A 2013 piece in Wired UK spoke to the many things that play a factor in political ideology, “including biology and neurology, cultural conditioning, motivation, personality and temperament.”

It goes on to cite studies that have found phenomena such as individuals tightening their grip on beliefs when presented with facts directly contradicting said viewpoints, and people actually holding stronger opinions when ignorant on an issue.

These biases are only further reinforced if you only hang around people who hold the same views as you, aka groupthink.

Many have speculated that most Trump voters knew few to no Clinton voters, while Clinton voters knew few to no Trump voters. A lack of understanding can cause a lack of perspective and empathy, which I will touch on a bit more briefly.

It’s important to remember that a number of politicians have switched parties, whether out of true change in belief or for the sake of convenience. In fact, at one point, both Trump and Clinton identified politically as being something other than a Democrat or Republican.

President Trump identified as being part of the Democratic and Reform parties— running for president on the ticket of the latter in 2000— before settling as a Republican.

It was news to me that Hillary was actually a Republican for many years. She supported Goldwater, and attended the 1968 GOP Convention.

All in all, I’d like to think that changing parties or ideologies, regardless of the nature of the switch, signifies that an individual is open-minded and independent in thought.

Being able to admit that you may have been wrong is a noble trait in itself. People change and evolve throughout life, and to imply that political beliefs don’t follow that same rule is a belief you should drop.

His two known writing projects, one used and one abused, are The Article Review (thearticlereview.com) and A Wiki a Week (awikiaweek.com), respectively. He enjoys learning about everything under the moon, because, well… the sun BURNS his ghostly white skin.

“Don’t become discouraged. Perhaps aim to become the anti-Trump— kind, considerate, tactful, responsible, informed, and diplomatic.”

In other words, face reality— don’t fear it— but fight against its evils. FDR was setting the stage for Greenpeace to hang a bold banner emblazoned with the word “RESIST” behind the Trump House nearly a century later.

Remember, FDR led in a period of great uncertainty. The four-term Democrat presided over almost the entirety of World War II, not to mention the Great Depression. If you can feel fearless in the midst of Hitler and widespread starvation and bank runs, you can feel fearless today.

Fearlessness, I would argue, is not the absence of fear, as much as it is not letting trepidation hold you back. When you let fear adversely influence your decisions, you have effectively lost control over your life.

Therefore, I recommend being realistic about this country’s state, while still being inquisitive as to all avenues that can be taken. Survival is nice, but learning to thrive is an even better option.

This article will explain how to survive and thrive in Trump’s America until (at least) 2020— because regardless of how you feel about him, he’s most likely here to stay.

2020?

Let’s address the elephant in the room: this weird looking septuagenarian can’t stay in office that long, can he?

While the prospect of Trump serving a full term disgusts me too, the truth is that it’s very difficult to get rid of a president. Case in point: never in history has a president been involuntarily removed from office.

For a president to be impeached, charges must be made against them in the House of Representatives, an action usually first undertaken by the House Judiciary Committee.

The actual act of impeachment would from here proceed in the full House (no pun about 90s sitcoms intended.) If the House decides to impeach the president by a majority vote, the Senate is responsible for convicting the president of the charges. The Senate must convict the president by a two-thirds vote.

Since Congress is divided by party lines, it’s possible to be impeached, but almost impossible to be convicted.

Only two presidents have ever been impeached: Bill Clinton and Andrew Johnson. (Johnson was extremely close to being convicted by the Senate, while Clinton was acquitted by a fairly large margin.)

Nixon, it should be noted, resigned before what could have been the first forced removal from the Office of the Presidency.

Plus, as many have pointed out, President Pence probably wouldn’t be that much better.

As The Huffington Post noted last month, in his time as Indiana governor, Pence seemed to be oblivious to the notion of separation of church and state. While Trump is often shifty in his positions, Pence is an unequivocal anti-liberal— some things he has shown opposition toward include gay marriage, union protection, and a progressive tax system.

If you do happen to want a bible thumper as president, perhaps Trump’s impeachment could happen. One historian made headlines in February for saying how he felt Trump’s presidency would be the second-shortest ever. (Sandwiched between William Henry Harrison and James A. Garfield, both of whom died on the job.)

Some have argued that Trump’s approval rating will likely continue to drop, leading Republicans to lose their majority in Congress in 2018. If Russia and other allegations carry weight, it’s very possible that a reversal of fortunes could be in store.

Still, there’s no reason to hold your breath. In the vein of Buddhists who preach giving up expectations, it looks more pragmatic than ever to just accept a Trump presidency.

Some Options

By happenstance, in one of my favorite songs as of late, the Shins’ James Mercer falsettos the line “What can I do?” The verse comes during the chorus of the title track on The Shins’ new album “Heartworms.”

Mr. Mercer seems to be making a plea to a lover, but its message is equally applicable to all of us: what can we do?

One option is to become an ex-pat. Threatened by many, but undertaken by few, living abroad was an option I had seriously considered well before Trump took office.

By all accounts, empirical and anecdotal, the Scandinavian region of Europe is pretty blissful. Despite having little to no sun much of the year, people generally treat one another as equals, a fact that is reflected in the socialist economic system that guides the region.

So, if you’re not happy in the U.S., consider moving to Norway— they were just recently found to be the happiest country on Earth. Three other Nordic countries— Denmark, Iceland, and Finland— are also in the top 5. (Switzerland, a non-Nordic European country, is the other nation in the top 5, clocking in at number four.)

The U.S. is ranked 14th, a figure likely to continue to slide.

While it’s easier said than done, many countries welcome skilled and intelligent English speakers, regardless of the country’s wealth (or happiness quotient.)

Learning the native language would seem to be an obvious first step, but one shouldn’t stop there. Be prepared to get a work visa, for example, a task made more difficult for freelancers such as myself.

Having a place to stay when you make the move, establishing a bank account, finding utilities, and getting all the other details arranged can take time.

Maybe you don’t want to “run,” so to speak. You want to be part of the revolution, if there is one in the near future. (I feel as if the chances of said revolution are getting slimmer by the week, however, as the Democratic Party is the theoretical powerhouse of liberals, and by making HRC crony Tom Perez Head of the DNC, it seems as if the party’s elite hasn’t learned. Some real progressives were added to the DNC’s transition team, but it feels like appeasement.)

Others have mentioned this, but if you want to stick it to Trump, you have to make him feel ashamed. Regardless of whichever piece(s) of the Dark Triad that Trump likely possesses, it is clear that he is obsessed with brand and image.

It’s great that Americans were able to coalesce in protest over the first few days and weeks of Trump’s presidency, but we can’t revert to laziness insofar as staying informed and involved are concerned.

Pressure may make diamonds, but it may also make a man who thinks he’s worth millions of diamonds— Trump— finally crack and acquiesce.

It’s natural for passion to dissipate, but I wish that more people would continue to call for resistance. It’s not like things have gotten particularly better— the wall that Mexico won’t pay for is about to enter prototype stage. The failed second iteration of the travel ban is probably going to the Supreme Court, while nationals of 13 countries now can’t bring electronics on a plane. He won’t shake hands with Merkel, and accuses Obama of wiretapping. And the list goes on.

Over 340,000 service workers are expected to protest on May 1, but it’s not enough. This is coming from someone who— perhaps hypocritically— has yet to attend a formal protest event.

My reasoning for activist abstinence was simply to give him a chance. We did. He’s a failure who many are finally realizing should’ve never have been president.

This all gets back to a point made earlier, however: it almost doesn’t matter if he sucks. Pence is by all accounts worse. We shouldn’t give up on the resistance movement at all, but we should also acknowledge that it’s unlikely much will change anytime soon.

Another option is Mars. (Probably only possible well after 2018, however, as that’s when tech tycoon Elon Musk expects to first send a capsule to the planet.)

Surviving and Thriving

Enigmatic Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Zizek is very opinionated. He’s a unique deplorable— someone who warily supported Trump because he thought that Hillary’s fall was necessary for the ashes of the Democratic Party to rise.

And, oh yeah, he’s a Marxist.

He’s afraid, but he’s decided it’s probably best to not let the fear consume him. How do you go about this, you may ask?

“The only way to survive such shitty times, if you ask me, is to write and read big, fat books, you know? And I’m writing now another book on Hegelian dialectics, subjectivity, ontology, quantum physics and so on. That’s the only way to survive.”

It’s unclear as to whether Zizek advises simply turning off CNN, but he has a point. In times like these, you need a hobby to keep yourself occupied

I realize these next few sentences may make me sound like a motivational speaker, but focus on your goals. Don’t become discouraged. Perhaps aim to become the anti-Trump— kind, considerate, tactful, responsible, informed, and diplomatic.

If Zizek is indeed advocating for ignoring politics altogether, I get that. I want to be more active than ever, but if you don’t, someone else certainly will be.

Just don’t let fear scare you away from whatever is your calling— today, tomorrow, or in 2020 or beyond.

His two known writing projects, one used and one abused, are The Article Review (thearticlereview.com) and A Wiki a Week (awikiaweek.com), respectively. He enjoys learning about everything under the moon, because, well… the sun BURNS his ghostly white skin.

Healthcare — looking at you, the Oval Office— is complicated. With Trumpcare— the common name for the repeal and replace bill intended to displace Obamacare— it seems as if everyone has been reminded of the fact that new isn’t always better.

While many media outlets have covered its flaws, there are tangible benefits too, albeit only for certain groups.

In this article, I’ll try to recap what’s good and bad about the bill as it’s presently constituted, including how it may help or hurt younger individuals and those chronically underemployed. (Granted, an accurate analysis is difficult, considering how frequently its details and provisions change.)

It’s important to note that as currently constructed, the bill will likely not become law.

“Honestly, there is no way to exhaustively cover all of the “bad” with Trumpcare.”

As a digital nomad, I don’t have strong roots in any neighborhood. However, I’ve been in Oakland long enough to realize the perceptions outsiders have are mostly false. Yes, there are protests and civil unrest in response to police brutality, but the area isn’t a war zone filled with gangs policing territory for drugs. Anyone who says otherwise after spending more than a few days here only sees what he or she wants to see.

With that in mind, I recently participated in a jury focus group in Oakland involving a man who may have been the victim of overzealous actions on the part of the Oakland Police Department. As a diverse mock jury, we represented a variety of income brackets, races, personalities, and professions. I was one of three people who looked Caucasian. The other two: a 60-something gentleman with a bad sense of humor – he actually said, “has anyone ever called you ‘Turner Left’?” – and a blustery obese man whose perceptions remained a mystery until we were given the chance to express our thoughts.

“If you think Trump supporters are ignorant rubes because they can’t see beyond their own world, then show them what life is like outside of it.”

Two thousand years ago, a man could travel the known world freely, saying nothing but “civis Romanus sum:” I am a citizen of Rome. So powerful was the the name of the Roman Empire that it instilled respect – well, mostly fear – in anyone who dared to attack one of its citizens.

The United States of America may not have inherited the Roman’s desire for conquest, but it’s not an exaggeration to say that if there were a modern equivalent to the empire, it would be the USA. We have the greatest and most powerful military on the planet, capable of being deployed anywhere within a day. Our nation’s wealth compels others to learn English, making it the unofficial international language. Our influence in culture, art, and entertainment – no doubt propelled by the economy – reaches all corners of the Earth.

As an American traveling the globe, one might assume I enjoy the same protections to which a citizen of Rome felt entitled. My first experience abroad certainly reinforced this worldview. I had traveled to Beijing with my parents to visit my brother, who was there studying Chinese. When my father accidentally broke his glasses – well, had them slip off, and stepped on them – we ventured off to one of the many nondescript streets of Beijing.

“It became clear to me, rather quickly, that despite me just being a kid from Texas living in Japan, I was acting as an unofficial representative of the United States. Whether anyone abroad is willing to accept it or not, this is always the case.”

I have been searching and searching for what is at the center of my hatred for Donald J. Trump.

There are the obvious things: his stupid voice, his stupid hair, his idiotic phrasing, his over generalizing about pretty much all identity groups. His lies. His fake money, fake university, fake steak, and fake tan. I hate his sexual aggression most of all. He is the embodiment of many disgusting and silly things, and there are scores of people who hate and pity him as I do. I see the contempt splashed across my Facebook and Twitter accounts every day.

Although he hasn’t directly threatened them, I’ve been paying close attention to (liberal) men. Specifically white, specifically straight, and specifically cisgendered. They hate him, too. With fervor. This hatred and disgust was hopeful to me at first—yes! They are seeing how terrible this kind of behavior is! Maybe they’ll understand what the rest of us have had to deal with for millennia! Maybe things will change! Maybe! Maybe! And then…some things did.

When Trump was elected, I got a lot of calls and texts from these men, wondering how I was coping. I had great conversations with them. I felt stronger. They assured me they would donate to Planned Parenthood, and we all agreed we could be better at fighting racial injustice.

But something still wasn’t right. I think a part of me was expecting a critical shift in our culture. A drawing out of the poison. But what is the poison? What is this visceral, essential, nameless thing I have known my whole life? And then, after months of circling around it, it came to me. Or I came to it.

Inflexibility. For months, we were subjected to Trump’s (and the rest of his administration’s) inflexibility, which is perhaps inextricable with his narcissism. It sounded like this:

No, I will not take criticism, and in fact I will go so far as to say none of it is true, and degrade the media in the process. No, I will not ask for consent or respect your answer if you don’t give it. I will make Mexico pay for this wall and that is the end of it. We are doing this. You are doing this. This is happening. This is the truth.

Now, we will be subjected to it for the next four years (ostensibly). This brand of inflexibility is appalling in a world leader, but it also feels deeply personal. Noxiously familiar. It is the mysterious, primordial, destructive force I have felt pressed on me my whole life.

There’s a familiar refrain that’s been going around both sides of the political aisle for a number of years. No matter your background, financial status, race, gender, or politics…no one feels like they’re being heard.

Trump supporters argue – correctly, as it turns out – that the main reason he won the election wasn’t because liberals were unable to energize apathetic members or eligible voters, but due to how angry and disenfranchised they felt. These people were identified as the Silent Majority, implying most Americans must be suffering in the same way, but had been unable to make their voices heard until now.

Now that Trump is in power, liberals and sane people seem to be the Silent Majority. We see injustice and illegal actions, and scream at the top of our lungs about conflicts of interest, abuse of power, and white supremacists undermining our democracy.

“Let’s get something out in the open: if you support Trump, you’re on the wrong side of history. You’re on the wrong side of the present.”

As a Brit abroad, 2016 was a tough year. The Nazis of Great Britain won, with Brexit becoming a reality none of us Liberals anticipated. This vote of ignorance, and the tears that were shed over my breakfast table, were enough to push me into leaving my family, and my (now ex-) boyfriend behind. I ran away to Los Angeles to be with the rest of my fellow creative refugees.

In the midst of one of the most bizarre runs at the White House, I sat with the rest of the world and watched as Donald Trump went from businessman to President. It was a move that no one truly anticipated, and it has stunned the globe into silence. Had I been able to vote, I doubt I’d have felt comfortable voting for either Trump or Hillary Clinton. That’s just my politics. In the UK, I’m a registered Liberal Democrat because of their policies and practice. In the United States, I’m not sure what I am.
What I do know is the data, and the numbers don’t lie. As Harrison Stamoudis wrote in a recent article, America is $20 trillion dollars in debt. That would scare me if I wasn’t already an international woman. I escaped one country that went to hell in a cheap, uninformed handbag, I’ll happily escape this one if it all goes wrong here too. However, I have this overwhelming feeling that it won’t.

“We seem to forget that America is still a baby by global standards, and may be entering its teens.”

Politics Corner

Government policies play a large part in shaping the economy. In response to this fact, we thought it was important to start a section devoted to politics We don’t define ourselves as a political site or affiliate ourselves with any political party. We hope the political section will result in engaged and spirited commentary from our readers.

You can get involved by going to our Message Boards to discuss each week's new piece.

If you like what we do, buying our new book goes a long way towards funding the site. Plus, the book is really funny, and we think you’ll like it.